Bed Sharing 101
by Hinn-Raven
Summary: One bed. Two guys. One former Freelancer with a gigantic crush. This can only end one way.


**A/N: Written for Tuckington Bedsharing Week in the summer of 2016. There is a sequel on Ao3 but it will not be uploaded here because of guidelines involving explicit content.**

* * *

"I could sleep on the floor," Wash blurt out the minute he laid eyes on the bed. A small, twin bed.

Tucker glanced at him. "On what?" He demanded, glancing around. There wasn't much floor space, Wash had to admit.

"If we move the bed—" Wash began, setting his jaw. There was no way he could survive spending the night sharing a bed with Lavernius Tucker. Not with his dignity intact, anyway. Not with the dreams he'd been having. Not with the state he'd been waking up in.

" _Wash_ ," Tucker said. "You'd freeze. And be sore. And not in the fun way." The way he said it told Wash everything he needed to know about the positioning of Tucker's eyebrows and smirk.

Wash could feel his cheeks heating up slightly. He was very grateful for the darkness of the room, which hopefully hid it from Tucker.

"Tucker," Wash said, exasperated.

" _Wash_ ," Tucker imitated. "Look, you take the bed. You've barely been sleeping lately, you need a good night's sleep. I'll take the floor."

Wash crossed his arms. " _Tucker_."

"I can handle it," Tucker insisted.

Wash glanced around, searching for a solution. The room was so small, there really wasn't room for anyone to lie down comfortably, and there wasn't any spare bedding, so it wouldn't be comfortable. And, given the way the cement floor was already cold beneath Wash's feet, it would probably be cold.

Wash gritted his teeth. He was an adult. He could handle this. He'd handle the… _problem_ , in the morning. Hopefully, without Tucker noticing.

"We'll share," he said, firmly. "It'll be fine."

Tucker glanced at him. "You sure?" He asked, sounding hesitant.

Wash could feel his blush starting up again, and quickly turned away. "Yes," he said firmly. "It'll be fine."

He couldn't see Tucker shrug, but he knew it happened.

Wash turned around, reaching for his bag, and froze when he saw Tucker with his shirt halfway off.

"What are you _doing_?" Wash felt his voice rising, and tried to stop his jaw from dropping and himself from staring. He was an _adult_. He could control himself. He was _not_ going to ogle his shirtless friend or stare at his abs or…

He forced his eyes up to Tucker's face, feeling his ears heat up.

"What?" Tucker said, frowning. "It's not like I brought pajamas."

Wash spent that moment to curse whatever deity might be watching out for him, because this _was not helping_. He was going to die. Possibly of embarrassment. Possibly of mortification because there was no way he was escaping this situation without a bad case of morning wood.

Wash hated everything. He guessed he should just count himself lucky Tucker wasn't planning on sleeping naked

Getting into bed was a very arduous process, with Wash doing his absolute best to not even touch Tucker. He… mostly succeeded.

Wash quickly settled onto his side, facing the wall, angling his feet away from Tucker, so that they were almost poking out from under the sheets and quilt. Tucker settled in a similar position.

"Night Wash," Tucker said, quietly.

Wash swallowed. "Night," he said, and then immediately focused on his breathing, trying to keep it nice and even.

Wash did his best to stay very, _very_ still. Tucker seemed to be radiating heat. The bed was far too small, Wash thought wildly, as even the slightest shift seemed to cause Tucker's bare back to brush against him.

Wash clenched his eyes tightly shut and tried to lock his muscles in place.

He rarely slept well during the best of times, but the best times definitely did not include Lavernius Tucker sleeping in the same bed as him, within arm's reach but _definitely_ out of bounds.

Maybe he didn't have to sleep. Maybe he could just stay here, eyes closed, and everything would be fine. He could fake it. That would totally work.

Wash focused to the sound of Tucker's breathing, listening as it slowly slowed and evened out.

Carefully, Wash rolled over slightly to look at Tucker, who was fast asleep. Wash felt himself smile slightly, before going back to his old position.

Wash was asleep before he could work himself into another freaked out state.

Wash wakes up with a mouthful of hair that isn't his and his pajama shorts uncomfortably tight and pressed against…

Oh god. Memories of where he was and _who he's with_ flood in, filling Wash with the awkward mortification.

He's sharing a bed with Tucker.

His erection was pressed right up against Tucker's leg.

His arms are around Wash's waist.

He's got a mouthful of Tucker's dreads.

Agent Washington was a professional. He can handle this. He can _handle this_. Slowly, he pulls his head back so that Tucker's dreads are no longer covering his face. Then, carefully, he lifts one arm off Tucker, doing his best not to wake him. Then, _slowly_ , he tried to pull his other arm away, but Tucker's full weight was on it. It's already asleep, and Wash wanted to groan, because that means he's been like this for a while.

This was a bad idea. An awful idea. He should have gone to Kimball, asked for another room, stayed up all night on patrol, _anything_. Anything has to be better than trying to pull his arm out from under Tucker without waiting him up, anything has to be better than his hindbrain coming up with a thousand scenarios, anything has to be better than blushing like a teenager when he realizes that he still hasn't shifted his body away from Tucker, so that he's still pressed up against him.

But before Wash can even start to do anything to fix that, Tucker started to stir. Wash started to try to yank his arm out from under Tucker, but then Tucker rolls over, yawning slightly, so that he's practically nose to nose against Wash.

Wash would like to say that he reacted with dignity and poise.

Wash would also be a giant fucking liar if he did.

Wash let out a gigantic, embarrassed yelp, and Tucker's eyes flew open.

"Wash?" He asked.

Wash tried to stay very still, but he couldn't hide his blush. His erection was now pressed up against…

Wash froze.

Well.

It looked like he wasn't the only one with a problem.

Tucker blinked slowly, lazily even, and then he started to grin widely. " _Hey_ ," he said.

Wash's brain, at that moment, decided to do its best impression of a computer in the middle of an EMP blast.

Wash let out a high pitched noise that resembled a whine more than any sort of greeting recognized by human languages.

Tucker snorted. "You okay in there Wash?" Casually, he propped himself up on his elbow, which just _happened_ to shift his hips forward.

Wash was not proud of the noise that followed. He was sure the blush had spread all the way down his neck to his chest at that point.

"Fine," Wash managed, although his hands were fisted in the sheets to try to stop himself from doing anything he might regret. Like kissing Tucker. Or pressing his own hips forward. Or pushing Tucker into the mattress and pressing his lips against his throat and—

"Agent Washington!" Caboose burst through the door with his signature aplomb.

Wash let out another extremely undignified noise, and yanked his arm out from under Tucker so fast that he fell off the bed, onto the hard cement ground.

Ouch.

"Wash?" Tucker called, looking down anxiously.

"I'm fine," Wash groaned. Well, at least the morning wood was gone. Caboose, apparently, was an excellent moment killer.

"Agent Washington! Carolina said there was a _very important meeting_!" Caboose said. "Which you should go to!"

Tucker let out a groan and collapsed flat onto his back. "Thanks Caboose," he muttered.

Wash got to his feet. "I'll be there," he said, scrambling for his clothes. Caboose grinned and ran off, humming to himself as he went.

"I'll talk to Kimball about sleeping arrangements," Wash said to Tucker, fingers fumbling as he quickly put on his regular clothes, keenly aware of Tucker's eyes on him. "I'll—she'll figure something out. I'm sure."

"It wasn't so bad, was it?" Tucker grinned at him, flopping backwards against the pillow, propping himself up on his elbows so he could still keep eye contact with Wash. Wash tried not to stare at the sight of Tucker's bare chest against the sheets, or the way his hair pooled against the pillow.

Wash wished desperately for his armor, and more specifically for his _helmet_ , just for the sake of hiding his blush.

"I'm going to be late," he blurted, and ran for it.

The meeting with Kimball was productive, successful, and short.

Wash forgot to mention sleeping arrangements to her.

Which meant that, come midnight that night, Agent Washington was going to find his way to the tiny room and only one bed again.

It was distinctly possible that Wash would not survive the week with a single shred of dignity.


End file.
